


Hush Hush

by CometsofTsushima



Series: D.Va Song sadness [1]
Category: overwatch
Genre: F/F, NSFW, Sad, Self-inflicted Injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CometsofTsushima/pseuds/CometsofTsushima
Summary: Is a secret worth anything? Maybe it’s benign and no one will care.But maybe not.





	1. Friendship and     Hairstyles

**Author's Note:**

> I will start this by saying that there is a character in this story who is Trans. There is only one, and it will be obvious who it is. This is not a story of inclusiveness, more a story of struggle for the main character to feel at peace with themselves. There will be smut, It will have humor, it will be sad.  
> This is your warning, but I hope you enjoy the story anyways.

He eyed the simple target. Metal, smooth, painted with rings of differing colors. A simple target, no more, no less.  
The target would sway with the vibrations of the rooms, or with the objects that collided with it.  
He reached behind his back, feeling the carbon fiber fletchings of his arrows.  
He pulls one out.  
It’s smooth to the touch, fine metals, aluminum and carbon fiber-reinforced shafts, tipping off into a sharp, fine-point tip made up of light-weight titanium.  
He notched the arrow, pulling his bow up with his gloved fingers, lining up his shot. He inhales, holding his breath as he pulls the draw-string back.  
He holds it, letting small quivers of energy flow from him, as his grip tightens.  
He exhales, letting the arrow go. A resulting *twang* reverberates throughout the room, as the simple target begins to sway back and forth.  
His arrow, punching clear-through the military grade target, leaving a perfect circle the size of the shaft, with small, razor-thin slashes where the tip had cut through.  
He begins to stride over, a lithe speed born of years of training. He watches the hash marks of distance as he makes his way over to the target. He sees ‘300m’, then ‘250m’, then ‘200m’.  
All the way down to the target, stopping at a simple ‘0’.  
He pulls his arrow out, a quick task, as the arrow left the perfect track. Gently dropping the arrow in his quiver, he is content with his work. He taps the target, watching It sway slowly, back, and forth. He shows a slight smile, admiring the perfect quarter-sized hole his arrow has made in the middle of the bullseye.  
He begins his walk back, deftly wrapping the bow around his shoulder. He catches a glimpse of another person, her long hair wrapped into a ponytail, her usually attire, a small pink-and-white bomber jacket adoring her small body with black leggings and small pink tennis shoes finishing her look.  
She blows a pink bubble; she must have had gum in her mouth before she walked in.  
He smirks slightly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, miss Hana-Song?” He asks.  
The girl in question smirks. “Just wanted to see if the old man himself can still aim his bow.” She joked.  
He laughed, a deep boom. “Well miss Song, can I still aim?” He follows her eyes as she glances at the hole in the target. Her eyes widen upon seeing the perfect circle.  
“How… far away were you?” She asks, popping the gum. He rubs his beard, pretending to think on it. “Oh I’d say… 300 meters”  
He smirks, pleased to see her shake her head.  
“Alright, alright. I get it.” She shook her head again, walking over to the archer, whom has since sat down and begun to clean his bow.  
He looked up from his work. “Again, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I’m sure you did not come to check up on me.” He said, lightly oiling his bow, lightly drawing a small cloth over it.  
Hana looked at him, seeming to contemplate her reason for talking with him.  
“I… need help.” She said.  
The archer huffed. “Pray tell.” He said.  
She giggled. “Nothing major! I just need help with my hair.”  
She said, pointing to his hair.  
He scoffed. “Why me? I doubt you want an undercut.”  
She giggled again, “no, but I know you know who to make good pigtails.”  
He grunted, “that is incorrect miss Song-” but he was cut off by a curt “nah uh” from Hana.  
He groaned. “If I show you, will you leave me alone?” He asked, putting down the oil and cloth, taking out sanitizer to clean his hands off.  
The gamer gave a quick nod, a smile clear on her face. “Yes! Promise Hanzo!”  
He groaned again, motioning for her to sit down. The gamer did, slightly giddy as she did, crossing her legs and letting her hair fall free.  
Hanzo cracked his knuckles. He gently grabbed her hair, slowly and softly beginning to go through the motions of creating pigtails for the gamer. He told her about the correct proportions to use, how to do certain knots and braids correctly, and what hair products he uses to keep his hair looking fresh.  
The comment about the hair products he added out of kindness. It always helped to have the right products.  
“Alright Hana, I think that will do.” He said, standing up to admire his work.  
Her hair looked good, he decided to give her a different take on pigtails, knotting them twice, so it made her hair a bit shorter.  
The gamer stood up and did a twirl, her hair flying behind her in majestic brown circles.  
Hana smiled and giggled, “thanks Uncle Hanzo!” She said, giggling one more time before popping a new piece of gum in her mouth.  
He pinched the bridge of his nose, but he did not say anything.  
The gamer had taken out her phone and was going through the many apps she had.  
“Selfie!” She said grabbing Hanzo’s shoulder.  
He sighed. “I know you are giving me bunny-ears Hana.” He said, to which Hana giggled and brought up the phone.  
“Don’t be such a buzzkill! Just smile!”  
Hanzo shook his head, but smiled a true smile. She pressed the button and a small *click* could be heard.  
“Sooo cool! Thanks Uncle Hanzo!” She said, before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, and darting off.  
“I do not know who told you to call me ‘uncle’, but tell them to knock it off!”  
The gamer stuck out her tongue and slid out the door.  
He rolled his eyes, returning his attention to his bow, It now needing to be completely re-oiled.  
He sat back down, dousing the cloth again, and rubbing the bow down. He smiled as he worked, he was glad he could help her.  
But why?  
He pondered that question to himself. His self acclaimed ‘niece’ meant a lot to him. Very few people at the watchpoint meant anything to him, she was one of the few exceptions.  
He always thought she looked alone.  
Perhaps a life of spotlight had staunched her ability to make real friends?  
He chuckled to himself. “The irony, me seeing a popular figure needing a friend.”  
In the end, that’s what he settled on.  
He stood up, putting his bow over his shoulder again, and slinging his quiver over the opposing shoulder.  
Pushing in the small chair with his foot, he slowly strode out of the practice range, awkwardly attempting to shut the light off with his knee.

 


	2. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unifinished, this chapter does not end there.

__

She skipped down the hall, happily humming a tune from one of Lucio’s new albums. She pursed her lips and blew a bubble, letting it inflate to quite a substantial size while she walked. Her vision became clouded, and soon her world was a pink wonderland.  
She giggled and popped the bubble, the gum splashing all over her face.  
“Bleh.” She said, attempting to remove the sticky pink gum from her face. It was hard and time-consuming work, but on her walk back she managed to scrape most of the pink mass off of her face, realizing that she needed to clean her face and hand up now.  
She continued on her path, knowing that she would run into her room on her current path.  
Her tennis shoes clicked softly on the marble floor, giving a soft tempo to her humming. She closed her eyes, smiling and beginning to snap her clean hand to the tempo, soaking up her sudden desire for music.  
As her feet pattered on the marble, she started to sway her hips, and dance, almost hopscotching her way along.  
Even with her eyes closed, she knew the way by heart. She would often take late night walks, and sometimes she would forget her phone; her only source of light at night.  
She did not need her sight, as her memory illuminated her path, and painted a way only she understood.  
A way she felt comfortable on.  
The gamer felt safe on this route, because it was an obscure route, one few people knew about, and even less used.  
As she hopped along to her humming, she ran directly into someone, and not gently either.  
Both her and the person tumbled to the ground, the person dropping their papers everywhere.  
Hana shook her her head. It hurt. “Ow… I’m sorry… I should have….” but she stopped, upon seeing who she bumped into.  
Majestic blonde hair, wrapped in a pony tail atop a beautiful face, one who’s eyes were baby blue, and who’s smile was ever present.  
“Doc-doc-doctor Ziegler?” She squeaked, terrified of the repercussions of her actions. She dropped to her knees, quickly picking up all of her papers, neatly stacking them and shakily handing them to her.  
The Doctor tilted her head and smiled. “It’s ok Liebe, it was a mistake.”  
She reached out for the papers, but Hana squeaked again and dropped the papers again, afraid of getting hit.  
She cowered down trying to avoid any blows to her, but the Doctor was not trying to hit her, and she did not know why.  
She looked up, fear in her eyes, but all she saw in the Doctors eyes was confusion.  
“Are… you ok? What’s wrong Liebe?” She knelt down, her white coat flowering around her as it touched the ground.  
“Do… you think I’m going to hit you?” She asked.  
Hana began zone out, the doctors words falling on deaf ears.

Her eyes were wet. Why could she not remember why? She looked around, her shoulder aching as she turned her head. The room she was in was trashed, destroyed, with broken furniture and torn wall paper.  
She remembered it like this though, this was normal.  
Wireframe beds with tiny mattresses crowed the room. Most had soiled blankets and torn pillows adorning them.  
She remembered it like this though, this was normal.  
The room was barren of bodies, besides hers.  
This was not normal, she knew that.  
She was lying on one of the beds, her legs and arms hurting. She looked down, her clothes tattered and worn, purple, black and blue marks dotted her body.  
She touched one; pain, red-hot searing pain. Her eyes watered again, tears streamed down her cheeks, but it only hurt worse when they went over those purple marks on her face.  
A loud crash could be heard, followed by angry yelling. Cracking of wood, and the door she did not see swinging open.  
She covered her face, cowering in the bed. Stomping followed, sharp words of a foreign language pierced her ears.  
“Park rang you know Tracey a lot ice for two nights pansang for useless Idiot!”  
She cowered, unable to understand what the man wanted. She peaked out of her hands, seeing him raise his hand.  
“Juh eul a peu da ge ha da ji mal da si o!” She yelled, covering her face again, and rolling into a ball.  
The blow never came.  
“Car motra see air ox of putrid door!” He yelled again, slamming the door, the walls shaking.  
She trembled, beginning to convulse. Warm tears, flowing down her bruises cheeks.  
Why did it have to hurt?

Angela watched the smaller girl come back to reality. She seemed dazed, confused, but otherwise alright. She wanted to say something, but did not know what to say. Hana dipped back down to the floor, collecting her fallen papers, for the second time.  
With a shaky smile, but a steady hand, she handed the papers back to the doctor, who took them into her arms, re-binding them and putting them into a folder.  
“Are you ok Hana?” She asked, focusing back onto the flustered gamer, who stood up and dusted herself off.  
“I’m ok Doctor. Don’t worry about me.” She said, making her smile stronger.  
She nodded, not really trusting the gamers words, but not wanting to push it.  
“Alright Hana. Please watch where you are going next time please.” She simply said. She had a lot of work to do, and this had taken up some of her time.  
The gamer nodded, “I’m sorry, it won’t….”  
She blushed, her face dropping into mild panic, she quickly turned away from her and began walking away. “Sorry doc! Gotta go!”  
The gamer scurried away before she could stop her.  
“Hana wait!” She said, holding up her hand, but she was already gone, running down the halls until she slid into a room, presumably her own.  
She shook her head, dropping her hand. She had no time for this.  
She strode down the hallway, Intent on reaching her meeting in time.

The door slid close with a resounding *thud*. She leaned on the wall, sliding down until she was promptly on the floor. She covered her face, quivering In fright and embarrassment. The slight strain on her tights was enough to remind her why. She looked down, seeing the tiny bulge through the black fabric.  
She covered her face again, the blush and tears burning so hot it felt like it would singe away all of her fears and hatred. She hated herself, this… thing, this ‘shame’ she was born with. She wish it would just go away, but she had already tried that.  
She stood up, making her way over to her bathroom. She opened the door, letting it slide to the side, revealing her bathroom.  
She smiled, wiping her tears away. Her bathroom was always something she liked, it was always so warm, comforting even. She walked over to her mirror, looking at her reflection. She looked deep into her own eyes, seeing her discomfort.  
Her hair, the hair Hanzo had spend hours trying to perfect, and show her how to make, was in disarray. Her cheeks, bright pink, sullen; her eyes swollen and red.  
“I still look cute.” She thought, which brought a smile to her face.  
She began to remover her clothes, slowly, she was in no hurry. She hung her special jacket on the small hook on the inside of the door, and pulled her undershirt off, including her bra. She stopped momentarily to turn the bathtub on, bending over the basin to the two switches and levels, switching on ‘hot’. At least the expensive appliances, such as the tub, remembered certain things about her.  
Like what temperature she liked the water to be.  
The water gushed out, beginning to whirlpool at the bottom, warming the walls of the tub and beginning to slowly bubble and froth.  
The pulled her tights down, remaining only in her panties. “White rabbit, always classy.” She thought, looking at her bottom, white the silly ‘nerf this’ wrote over her butt. She giggled, she still loves these stupid panties.  
She pulled them off and threw them into her room, only left standing nude.  
With her ‘shame’.  
She did not want to even look at it. She sat on the toilet, pushing It between her legs, blushing as she turned away, reliving herself.  
She flushed the loo, standing back up. She leaned against the sink, forcing herself to look at her ‘shame’.  
It was scared, small but noticeable knife marks marked the base of it.  
She did it to herself, trying to get rid of it.  
She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She refused to remember it, it was a bad time in her life.  
She opened her eyes back up to look at It.  
It was… cute.  
She touched it, more of a poke than anything, but small vibrations shot through her.  
She squeaked. It felt good.  
She was glad she kept herself… bare down there. It was little work to maintain, and made her feel better about herself.  
She turned away, not wanting to look at It anymore.  
“The water must be ready by now.” She thought.

 


End file.
